How to Court a Genius
by CeliaEquus
Summary: It starts with not-quite flowers. Then there's dinner, followed by chocolates, then the opera, then a picnic... Basically, Phil Coulson is courting Tony Stark, and this is the story. For the Avengers Kink Meme. Iron Tazer! Disclaimer: I don't own the Avengers, or any other Marvel thingummies, nor am I making money from this.


Golden Oldies, round one: . ?thread=777278  
"I'd like to request Coulson being super-smooth and courting Tony, going all out. Tony, who has no experience with that, has no idea how to react and is completely swept off his feet.  
Bonus for their first time having sex and Coulson blowing Tony's mind there too."

* * *

"How to Court a Genius"

"Huh?"

There was a bouquet of flowers on Tony's workshop desk. He looked around; but there was no one there.

"JARVIS?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Uh… have you scanned these?"

"Yes, sir."

"Anything wrong with them?"

"Aside from the fact that someone appears to be courting you, sir?"

"Courting?" Tony looked down at them, and poked one of the stems. His eyes widened at the stiffness, and he examined the so-called flowers.

They were screwdrivers, with different coloured handles. The handles were surrounded by petals cut from silk of matching colours. When he pulled one of the tools out of the stand, he realised that they weren't actually screwdrivers: they each had an end like a stamp, some with a star, some with a flower, and so on. There was a note in neat hand-writing, which seemed vaguely familiar.

'_In case you want to add some decoration to your projects._'

Tony grabbed a piece of scrap metal, a mallet, and hammered a star shape into the smooth surface. The metal puckered a little around it, so he tried again. This time, hitting with half the power, a star was left behind, clear and neat, and pretty… cute, actually.

"Cool," he said. "Hey, Jarv. Who left this?"

"The gift is from Agent Coulson, sir."

Tony looked up, jaw dropping. "Agent? Why would he leave me… flowers? Kind of." He put the shape tool back in the stand, and played absently with the petals.

"I cannot imagine why anyone would gift another person with flowers such as these; but then you are not like other people, sir. Nor is Agent Coulson."

Tony raised an eyebrow, but he continued to stroke the silk. "They're – and I can't believe I'm going to use this word – neat. Can you thank him for me?"

"Perhaps it would be more appropriate for you to thank him in person, sir."

"Yeah. You think that'll go well? This is me we're talking about, JARVIS."

"You make an excellent point, sir. Shall I prepare an appropriate communication, and send it on your behalf?"

"Uh, sure. Why not? Just let me know what it says before you send it, okay?"

"It is already sent, sir," JARVIS said, sounding completely unrepentant.

"Great. If he kills me, it's on your head."

"May I remind you, sir, that I am a computer system, and as such have no physical head?"

Tony face-palmed.

* * *

"Wow, you really are star-studded," Clint said the next time they got ready for battle. Tony had kind of gone crazy with the metal stamps. "And heart-studded, and flower-studded, and—"

"Barton, finish that sentence and I finish you," Tony said.

"Just admiring. Hey, can you do something like that for my quiver?"

"Dream on," Tony said. "It'd probably affect the electronics."

"Pot calling the kettle black, Tony."

"Nope. Besides, your quiver comes from SHIELD, not me." And he didn't want to share his present.

Of course, Coulson chose that moment to show up. He didn't pay Tony any more attention than he did anyone else.

"Let's move," he said. "Thor, Iron Man, stick close to the `jet. I mean it. No going off on your own until we've assessed the situation close-up."

"Okay, Phil," Tony said.

He probably should have kept that to himself. Now everyone was staring at him.

"Agent Coulson's right," Steve said, ever the leader, and breaker of tension. "Let's get moving."

"Another organisation's already there," Coulson – fine, Phil – said as they entered the elevator, Tony fiddling with the trackers around his wrists. "They specialise in aliens. Not in the same way that SHIELD does."

"Not the MIBs?" Clint said. Phil nodded, and the archer groaned. "Dude, why don't you just say that we're going to see your dad?"

Phil merely arched an eyebrow as everyone – except Natasha and Clint – looked at him.

"You have a dad?" Tony blurted out.

"I've had a father for most of my life," Phil said, tone so dry it put the Sahara to shame.

"Yeah, but…" Tony wanted to ask what his father thought of Phil giving Tony pseudo-flowers. He wanted to ask whether he was supposed to say something. He wanted to ask what the hell Phil was doing giving him flowers in the first place.

But the elevator came to a stop, and they were on the move.

* * *

Agent K had looked at Tony and found him wanting. Tony just knew it. That was always people's first reaction on meeting him.

"I don't think your dad likes me," Tony said while he was being checked over to make sure that no, the goo hadn't seeped through the filtration systems in the Iron Man suit. He didn't know what made him say that. Phil looked at him strangely.

"What gives you that impression?" he asked.

"He never smiled. Didn't really say anything to me at all. Really just a 'who the hell are you' – his words, don't smirk at me like that – then he said he thought I'd be taller, told me where to go, and just… I really don't think he likes me."

"He doesn't really like anyone, Stark. He likes me because I'm his son, and I've made him proud. He loved my mom. Anyone outside of the family?" Phil cocked his head. "I guess there's his partner. Like doesn't come into it."

"You're right," Tony said, nodding. "I, uh, I have to ask you about the, uh… the flowers."

"We can talk about them tonight, over dinner," Phil said. "If you get a clean bill of health from medical. I'll call you as soon as I've read the report. You like Turkish?"

"Turkish food?"

"No, I thought we'd eat some Turkish people. I've heard that cannibalism is very good for the teeth. Strengthens them."

"After seeing that… that thing today, I don't think cannibalism jokes sit well at the moment," Tony said, making a face as his stomach roiled at the thought. Phil immediately looked concerned.

"Are you okay?" he asked. "We can post-pone."

"No, I'll be fine. Just no eating other people. You have a place in mind?"

"I'll pick you up."

"I can meet you there—"

"I'll pick you up."

"…Okay."

"Good."

And then – and Tony had no idea whether or not to be horrified about this – Phil leaned over and kissed his gauntlet-free hand. Tony gaped, staring as the agent stepped out around the curtain.

What the hell just happened?

* * *

Phil arrived exactly at seven-thirty, wearing a park of black trousers, a dark blue button-down shirt, and a dark jacket. It was probably his idea of casual. At least Tony was also in smart-casual, so they were well-matched.

"You look handsome, as always," Phil said, and he kissed Tony's hand again. His eyes stayed on Tony the whole time; the billionaire was starting to get why women swooned at this kind of thing.

"You too," he said. All smoothness had clearly fled in the face of chivalry.

"Come on," Phil said, smiling gently. He held out his elbow, and Tony took it, nearly tripping as he continued to stare at the agent. Downstairs, they walked out to Phil's car, clearly the sleekest in SHIELD's fleet. It wasn't Tony's brand of sporty, but by government cars it was almost… sexy. And he tried not to tremble in shock as Phil helped him into the car and closed the door, before rounding to the other side. Tony buckled himself in absently.

He began to worry as they drove further and further. It was nearly half an hour before they arrived at a lone building. This wasn't actually an assassination attempt, was it? Because that would just be rude.

"Here we are," Phil said, unbuckling. "I thought you'd appreciate somewhere the press wouldn't be able to surround you in five minutes. The old couple here are former mentors; a rare case of agents living to retirement age."

When Tony still didn't touch his seatbelt, Phil leaned across and undid it for him. Their faces were close, bodies pressed together. As he pulled back, Phil stroked the top of Tony's right hand, never taking his eyes away. Christ, that kind of competence was a hell of a turn-on.

"Thanks," he squeaked.

Inside, Phil allowed Tony a choice of drink, directed him towards something less alcoholic, and then ordered the meal.

"You can pick what you want for dessert," he said. Tony was still dumbfounded, and didn't have a reply for that.

Dinner was good.

In fact, it was fantastic. They had pita bread and dips for the entrée, which were filling enough. Then came the oval-shaped Turkish pizza knotted at each end, with salad and herbed chips on the side. They shared everything, Phil occasionally feeding Tony. He let Tony repay the favour sometimes, which caused him an unreasonable amount of happiness.

"I'm starting to feel full," he confessed as they spilt the last chip in half. This time Phil fed him by hand, and Tony couldn't resist sucking on the agent's finger and thumb, just briefly enough for it to seem accidental.

"Just ice cream for dessert, then," Phil said, wordlessly summoning the dessert menu. "Pick a flavour. It's all made fresh on the premises. Three different flavours."

Tony chewed his lower lip. "Okay. Butterscotch… rum and raisin… raspberry swirl."

"Make that two," Phil told that young waiter. "Only small scoops. Dinner was delicious, wasn't it, Tony?"

"Best Turkish I've ever had," he said. "Probably the best food I've eaten in awhile, actually."

And the ice cream was just… shiver-inducing. Literally and figuratively. If Tony was less selfish, he would've recommended this place to anyone. But he wanted to keep it to just the two of them. It was their place.

Their place? Oh, hell.

Tony was compromised.

Phil walked him all the way back to his bedroom door. Tony didn't know whether to expect a kiss, and where it would be.

Of course, he thought almost bitterly. It would be the hand.

It ended up being both hands. Right first, then left. Then… back to the right? But this time Phil turned Tony's hand around and kissed the spot where palm met wrist, eye half-lidded as he maintained eye contact.

"Good night, Tony," he murmured. "Sweet dreams."

And then he left.

"JARVIS?" he said hoarsely, still tracing the spot where Phil had kissed him so intimately. It felt more intimate than most of Tony's kisses, including ones with tongue.

"Yes, sir?"

"That was… Do you have video footage of that?"

"Of course, sir. Would you like it discarded?"

"No! No, put it in a new folder, an encrypted one, along with the footage from before. Call the folder… uh, call it…"

"'How to Court a Genius', sir?"

"Yeah, okay, smart-ass. Call it that."

"Certainly. Good night, sir."

"Good night, Jarv. Hey, wait a sec. I didn't say I was going to bed."

"Agent Coulson wished you a good-night, sir. I presumed that meant you were going to sleep eventually."

"Good point," Tony muttered. "Okay. `Night, JARVIS."

"Don't forget to brush your teeth, sir."

"Yes, Mommy."

* * *

Coulson phoned the next day while Tony was with the others having breakfast. He choked on his coffee when he saw the caller ID.

"Hey," he said, putting his mug down so he wouldn't drop it.

"Good morning, Tony."

That was a good call on his part.

"Hi. Uh, how are you?"

"Good. I slept very well."

Why the hell was Tony blushing?

"I did, too," he said. "It was a… Thank you for dinner last night." The others were watching him. "It was… nice."

"Good. Are you free tomorrow night?

Tony brought up his schedule. No board meeting to skip. No gala to avoid. Usually, blank spots meant working on his tech.

"Yeah, I'm free," he said, minimising the schedule again. "What did you have in mind?"

"I've got tickets to _La Boheme_. Have you seen it?"

"No. Is it a play?"

Phil chuckled. "It's an opera."

"Sounds good," Tony said, turning so that he couldn't see his snickering team-mates.

"It starts at eight, so we'll have an earlier dinner. I'll pick you up at six, if that's fine with you?"

"Great, it's great. Yeah. See you then."

"Dress nicely."

"Okay. Bye, Phil."

"Have a nice day, Tony."

The moment his phone was back in his pocket, the others piped up.

"Phil? As in Agent Coulson?" Steve said.

"Didn't see that coming," Bruce murmured, raising an eyebrow. Tony almost stuck his tongue out at his science bro.

"Do we have to tell you to be careful?" Natasha asked, eyes narrowed. Tony gulped.

"I'm the one being courted," he said.

"Ah, I would speak with your paramour regarding Midgardian courting customs," Thor said. "My Jane deserves to be swept off her feet as well."

"As well as…?"

"You, Man of Iron."

"Ha," Clint said, and he smirked. "Tony's being swept off his feet."

That time, Tony did stick his tongue out.

* * *

Later that day, there was a delivery. Tony emerged from his workshop as soon as JARVIS notified him that the scans came back clean. The other Avengers were spread around the mansion, but they soon gathered when they heard who had sent the package. Scowling at them, Tony pulled off the paper, and then gaped.

It was a box of chocolates; chocolates in the shape of various cars. Some of them were huge, and they were all so detailed. Different coloured chocolate had been used.

"Whoa," Clint said. "Hey, going to share?"

Tony pulled them close and shook his head. "My boyfriend; my chocolates. JARVIS, we need pictures of these. Detailed pictures. This is totally worth a blowjob, right?"

"I believe that Agent Coulson intends to take this slow, to use the vernacular, sir," JARVIS said while the others were either laughing or blushing.

"Then I'll wait," Tony said, trotting back to the elevator. "Should I wait and share these with him?"

"I believe there is a note included."

Tony found the sheet of paper underneath the box.

'_These are for you, and you only. I hope you enjoy them._'

The fluttering in his chest had nothing to do with the arc reactor.

* * *

Dinner the next night was wonderful. There was an Italian restaurant half a block down from the theatre. Again, Phil ended up basically ordering for both of them, and again he paid. Tony tried to hand over his credit card; but Phil Coulson was a forceful personality, too, and smooth as hell.

Due to the more public nature of this date, he refrained from kissing Tony's hands – any part of him, for that matter – and there was no linking elbows. It was strange, but Tony actually regretted not being able even to hold Phil's hand. He didn't want people to think it was a business date; he wanted them to know he was being courted. Other same-sex couples were allowed to be seen like that. It wasn't fair.

But Phil had bought tickets for a box, just for the two of them. They were in near complete darkness, only the faintest of lights coming from Tony's arc reactor, and only if you knew it was there. Knowing they were going to the theatre, he'd done his best to cover it up.

"Sorry," he whispered while the orchestra was tuning.

"For what?" Phil asked, glancing at him side-on.

"This." Tony gestured to the middle of his chest. Phil barely looked at it.

"You look gorgeous as always," he said. "Nothing to apologise for."

Then the audience applauded as the conductor took to his stand, the overture started, and the curtains opened.

Interval seemed to take no time at all. They drank wine, discussed the first two acts, and then returned to their seats for the start of act three. Even though the chairs were bolted in place, it felt like Phil was sitting even closer to Tony than before. Maybe it was the two glasses of wine he'd had. Whatever it was, he was relieved; because by the end of the opera, he was damn near blubbing. Phil gave him his handkerchief; and when Tony's hands shook too much to use it, Phil dabbed at his eyes gently.

"Maybe we should've seen _Le Nozze di Figaro_ instead," he murmured. Tony shook his head vehemently.

"It's beautiful," he said. "Really. I'm sorry about this."

"Don't say that," Phil said. "I was like this the first time I saw _Boheme_. But I've seen it so many times… Hell, I didn't expect to be this close to crying. It must be something about seeing you so upset. Kind of heart-breaking."

They stared at each other for a moment. Just as Tony leaned in for a kiss the audience burst into applause as the last note died out. He jumped in his chair; Phil was, typically, unaffected. He pressed the handkerchief into Tony's hand and joined with the clapping.

Tony cleaned up properly in the bathroom before they left the theatre, even though he had red eyes. His breath was still shaky while they drove back to the tower. He noticed Phil's occasional glances.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked.

"Perfect," Tony said, half-smiling at him. "This evening was perfect."

"I'm glad. You deserve the best."

"Thor seems to be under that impression as well. By the way, he wants to talk to you about how to court Jane."

"I'd be happy to. Somehow I don't think Asgardian courting rituals would be very PC by Earth's standards."

Tony nodded, and went back to looking out the window.

This time, when Phil walked Tony back to his room, he went straight to the wrist-kissing. Tony gasped softly when his lips lingered.

"You enjoyed tonight?" Phil said.

"Y-yeah. We should do it again sometime."

"We will. Good night, Tony."

"Good night. And… thanks for the chocolates."

"You're welcome," Phil said, and he smiled.

Inside his room, Tony leaned back against the door and sighed. He was clearly turning into some kind of Victoria-era debutante.

Funnily enough, it didn't actually feel as pathetic as it sounded.

* * *

There was some saving-the-world stuff again, or at least saving-America stuff. It took up a bit of time, and Tony worried that Phil was going to forget about him. It was stupid, and selfish, considering that they had just averted a semi-apocalyptic catastrophe. But he missed his boyfriend, and didn't know whether he was supposed to be making the next move. According to Steve, that was a no.

"He's in charge of this," Steve said. "Let him come to you when he's available."

Tony had finished all the chocolates by now – he needed the sugar – and it was another week before he saw Phil in a non-work context.

"I've come to take you to the park," Phil said. "Are you free? I'm sorry this is such short-notice—"

"I've been free for ages," Tony said. "I mean, I've made sure that I'm free anytime. You know, in case you still wanted to…" He trailed off, and decided that the floor was infinitely fascinating. Phil tilted his chin up.

"I do want to," he said. "I've packed a picnic. So you're coming?"

"Yeah," Tony said, melting under the affectionate look. He could practically hear the others' jaws hitting the floor, but he couldn't care less.

Phil had made different gourmet-style sandwiches, and plenty of them. He'd also brought more chocolates – just plain ones this time, but still delicious – as well as a thermos of coffee, a bottle of wine, vegetables and dip, and cheesecake.

"I bought the cheesecake," he admitted. "This was kind of last minute. But I wanted to see you again, outside of SHIELD and Avengers business."

"Fine by me," Tony said, leaning back against the tree as they sprawled on the thick rug, basket between them. "These are great." He grabbed another sandwich, basking in Phil's indulgent smile.

"If there's one thing I can make, it's a damn good sandwich," he said.

"Ever give up your day-job, you could totally open a sandwich bar."

"I'll bear that in mind."

"Good." Tony glanced at him. "Or I could hire you as my personal sandwich-maker."

"Would I just make sandwiches?"

The way he said that made Tony blush again. Victoria debutante all the way. "Well, your duties would hopefully include kissing me." He leaned a bit closer. "I don't mind if you start now."

Phil cupped his cheek, and rubbed his nose against Tony's. "Not just yet. It's too early for that. You think you can wait?"

Tony nodded shyly. What was he turning into? "As long as it takes."

Phil smiled.

* * *

Over the next two weeks, they progressed from wrist-kisses to nose-kisses, then to forehead-kisses, and finally the cheek. On their ninth date after the picnic, Phil took Tony by surprise when he leaned in, aiming for the lips. Tony froze, chest heaving with fast breaths. He'd been waiting for this for nearly a month, and now his brain was taking a holiday. He couldn't even remember how to kiss.

"Not tonight?" Phil asked.

"I want to," Tony whispered. "I just… I don't know why I'm so nervous."

"Maybe I should've given you more notice."

"No, no. Please kiss me." He raised his eyes. "Please?"

The agent paused, then pressed his lips against Tony's. It didn't last long; just a few seconds' pressure, a small sound as Phil pulled back, and Tony opened his eyes.

"Good?" Phil asked. Tony nodded. "You'll be prepared next time."

"Uh-huh."

He was. Three days later (there was a mini-crisis on Staten Island), they ran into the others when they arrived back.

"Is there an emergency?" Phil asked calmly, keeping his fingers entwined with Tony's.

"Not really, sir," Steve said. He scratched the back of his neck. "Uh…"

"If you don't let us through right now, you will suddenly find JARVIS very uncooperative," Tony said, glaring at them. "Got it?"

Steve, Bruce, and Thor backed off immediately. Phil kept staring at Clint and Natasha, and eventually they moved aside as well.

"We just want to know what's going on," Steve said. "You… you are dating, aren't you?"

"Yes, captain," Phil said. Tony's heart almost beat right out of his chest when his boyfriend slid an arm around his waist, letting go of his hand. "Is there a problem?"

"No, sir. We just…"

"We wish to know your intentions toward our shield brother," Thor said.

Tony glanced at Phil, who smiled blandly.

"My intention for tonight is French kissing," he said. Tony's cheeks went bright red again. "That's all you need to know for the time being."

"More than we needed to know," Natasha muttered.

Phil fulfilled his promise, cradling Tony's head in both hands, while Tony's hands rested on his hips. For a French kiss, it was pretty tame. There was heat, yeah, but not overwhelming; even then, Tony's blush still didn't subside.

"Hot damn," he said once he had his lips, tongue, and breath back. "Never thought anyone could make me feel like a virgin, even when I was one." Phil laughed softly. "Can we do that again? Please, Phil."

"Of course."

They hit second base a week later, alone in the common area. Phil's hands slipped under Tony's shirt, cool against his burning skin, and he inhaled sharply.

"Tony?"

"Why are you doing this?" he asked. When the hands began to retreat, he caught them. "That didn't come out right. But I don't understand why you're going to all this trouble. I'm a… I was a sure thing."

"No one should be," Phil said. He moved back to Tony's abs, thumbs stroking the tight skin. "I figured no one ever treated you like this, and they should've. I wanted to set myself apart from all the rest."

"You already did. You chased me."

The night they went to third base was the night where, over dinner, Phil held Tony's hand and spoke.

"I love you," he said. Tony squeezed his hand back.

"I love you, too," he said, and he meant it. Every word, every possible nuance, he felt deep inside. Phil must have seen the truth, because his smile was the brightest yet.

* * *

Tony kept waiting to see when his boyfriend would take things to the next level. It's not that he was particularly anxious; it was more wanting to be prepared, unlike the first time they kissed. He thought he had it worked out when Phil asked him over for a home-cooked meal. Tony was antsy the whole way there, fidgeting in the car seat, continuously looking at Phil, who kept his eyes steadfastly on the road before them.

Okay, calm down, Tony thought. He'll have this covered. You didn't need to bring anything. He's never asked you to. You even offered to bring champagne, and he said no.

Tony wasn't any less nervous as Phil took him up to his apartment. It was a nice place, kind of homey. It didn't have all the high-tech stuff that Tony had, but then few people did. There was no real clutter, no nosey team-mates…

Hey, now that was an idea.

"What do you have planned for me?" he asked, turning into Phil's arms. He got a kiss on the nose, then one on the lips.

"You'll see," Phil said. "Go sit down. Living room's that way, bathroom's down the hall, second door on the left."

"And the bedroom?" Tony purred. Phil gave him a withering look.

"Sit down, Tony," he said. "Dinner will be ready in about twenty minutes, okay?"

Tony nodded, trying to look put upon, and entered the living area while Phil went into what Tony presumed was the kitchen. He sat in the middle of the couch, taking in the large-ish screen TV, sound system beside it, and the newspaper and magazines on the coffee table. He wondered whether Phil had bought the magazines especially.

Sure enough, nearly twenty minutes later Phil coughed from the doorway, startling Tony. He put down the issue of _Time_, stood slowly (his legs nearly went from under him), and walked to the door.

"Dinner's ready," Phil said. He placed Tony's hand in the crook of his elbow, and led him to the dining room, just off the kitchen. It was open plan, so Tony could smell something sweet coming from the oven. Phil seated him just like a gentleman, then took his place opposite.

This was the best dinner yet. Whether it was because Phil had cooked it just for the two of them, or because they were free to be as affectionate as they wanted, or because there was some kind of anticipation in the air, Tony didn't know. All he knew was that he would never forget tonight. Each mouthful was taking him closer to he didn't know what. The chunks of meat in the casserole melted in his mouth, the vegetables were cooked just right, it was the perfect mixture of spices. Phil had chosen the optimum wine to go with it. The bread rolls were home-baked as well, the crusts crunchy, the insides soft and warm.

"There's mini baked apple pie for dessert," Phil said. Even though Tony was bordering on full, his stomach growled in approval.

After the best apple pie ever, they finished the wine, fingers laced together. Tony's heart had relocated to his throat. He licked his lips, nervous all over again, and tasted the lingering apple and cinnamon. He really was full now; he could use some exercise to work off the meal. Not right away, but then he was looking forward to the foreplay.

"This has been the two months of my life," he said. His eyes were closed in bliss, and he was leaning back in his chair, taking in the warmth of his surroundings. "I swear, I've never been happier."

"I'm glad."

When Phil pulled his hand away, Tony's eyes snapped open, and he looked across the table. Phil wasn't looking at him; instead, he was tapping the tabletop, watching his hands. He was clearly thinking about something. Tony didn't want to interrupt him. Eventually, however, he felt he had to break the silence.

"Anything the matter?" he asked.

"Uh, not really. Just nervous."

So they were finally going to do it? After all the dates and gifts and Phil paying for it all, all the kisses and touches… were they finally going to bed? Were they finally going to sleep together? Something was happening…

Phil was standing up, walking around to the other side, and getting down on one knee.

"Yes," Tony blurted out even as Phil was reaching for his pocket. "I-I mean, sorry. Got carried away. Go on. Don't let me stop you or anything."

His rambling seemed to boost his boyfriend's confidence, because Phil beamed at him as he withdrew a small box from his pocket.

"Tony Stark, if you really want us to spend the rest of our lives together, and there's no doubt in your mind at all that we can make it, then I would like you to marry me," he said, opening the ring-box. Tony pushed his seat back and dropped to his knees.

"Yes," he said softly. "I'd love to marry you, Phil Coulson."

* * *

Tony was wrong about one thing. They didn't sleep together that night. When Phil finally mumbled something about the two of them waiting for their wedding night, Tony's mouth fell open. Then he hugged his fiancé close, and wondered how the hell he'd gotten this lucky.

"You're not secretly a virgin, are you?" he asked, immediately despising his habit of speaking without thinking. Phil arched an eyebrow.

"On our wedding night, I will prove to you just the opposite," he said. Tony shivered at the promises those words, and the way they were spoken, held.

When he got back to the tower that night, he was nearly skipping. This time, Phil didn't see him to the door; Fury reported some problem at headquarters as they were driving, so Tony had had to have his goodnight kiss in the car. He smirked as he passed the others, who stopped pretending to watch TV, in favour of staring at him.

"You came home," Natasha and Bruce said at the same time.

"Mmm-hmm."

"Tony, why are you wearing a ring?" Clint asked. Hawkeye was an apt codename.

"Because Phil asked me to marry him, and I said yes," Tony said. He refrained from twirling around; he felt giddy enough without adding to it, and the others would mock him the rest of his natural life.

The memory of their dumbfounded looks would stay with him forever. He'd have to send a screenshot of the security footage to Phil.

* * *

Tony was in his boxer shorts and undershirt when he got a call.

"Coulson's been injured," Fury said without preamble. "He asked me to let you know."

"What happened?" Tony asked, grabbing a jacket. His hands shook as he pulled it on.

"Structural damage at the base. Some kind of virus was eating through the walls. We didn't know what we were dealing with at first," the screen followed Tony as he ran out of the room, "just that R and D had some kind of accident. You heard that part of the conversation. Coulson was helping other people get out when some of the roof gave way. Came crashing down at an angle. He lost consciousness before they loaded him into an ambulance, but I spoke to him first."

"Which hospital?"

"None, yet. The ambulance has only just gone."

"Never mind. I'll put a tracer on his phone. He still has it, right?"

"Last I checked."

Tony was fighting a panic attack as he ran past his team-mates to the balcony.

"JARVIS, the suit," he said. "And a tracer."

"Already running the tracer, sir, and plotting a course to follow the ambulance."

"Great."

"What's happened?" Steve asked while the suit built up around Tony.

"JARVIS, play Fury's message to them after I'm gone."

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Surgery wasn't needed, thank God. They performed scan after scan – covered by SHIELD's medical insurance, making Tony feel even more useless – and cleaned up the debris. An IV in Phil's arm continued to pump antibiotics and painkillers into him. It was mainly the hit to the head and some blood loss. He was bandaged up, and had to stay overnight so that he could be monitored. That didn't stop Tony from clinging to his hand from the moment Phil was admitted into a private room. He stayed, holding on limpet-style, watching as their matching engagement rings glinted in the light.

Blue diamonds were rare and expensive, and so was white gold. Phil had confessed that the search was worth it to find something to match the arc reactor. Usually Tony didn't like any additional reminders; but Phil pointed out that they never would have met if he hadn't made the reactor for his chest in the first place. Tony had never thought of it that way. But the rings, the meals, the theatre tickets; they were all so expensive.

"My SHIELD salary is more than enough to cover this," he said.

"But I can afford it—"

"Which is why I know that you're not after me for my money," Phil said dryly.

Now he lay recovering from a workplace accident. Why was it that SHIELD workplace accidents were always so much worse than slipping on coffee or getting an infection from a rusty staple?

"Wake up soon, Phil," he murmured. He looked up at a knock on the doorframe.

"How's he doing?" Fury asked.

"Better than expected," Tony said. "We've just gotta wait for him to wake up, and they'll keep him here overnight. I'd like to keep him at the mansion with us until he's okay to stay by himself, or keep him here longer. I'm not going to lose him."

"You don't want to stay with him at his place?"

"Of course I do," Tony said, smiling ruefully. "But I don't know whether he'd allow that, now that we're going to wait until we're married."

Fury's gaze zeroed in on their hands. "When Phil told me he was shopping around for engagement rings, I thought he was just shitting me. You two are really getting married?"

"Yeah." He shuffled closer. "As soon as possible. We'll start making plans when he's lucid enough to talk about it seriously. I don't want to waste any time with this. I know we should probably do it thoroughly, and I really want to. We can go as small- or large-scale as he wants. But first and foremost, this is about marrying the man I love, and… and I just want to keep him safe. If the only way I can do this is to make sure we're married first so that I can watch over him at night…"

"I understand," Fury said as Tony fell silent.

A few minutes later there was some movement. By the end of another minute, Phil's eyes were open and Tony was giving him small sips of water.

"I can still kiss you, right?" Tony said. Phil smiled tiredly, but he nodded. Tony was gentle, bearing in mind the head injury, and Fury's presence. But Phil seemed satisfied as he lay back.

"Overnight stay?" he asked.

"Yes."

"…Tony, what are you wearing?"

"Uh, pyjamas. I was wearing them when Nick called. I used the suit to follow the ambulance here, so it's not like I needed to put on anything else."

Phil chuckled, coughed, and drank some more water. Tony smoothed back his already-smoothed-back hair, and kissed his forehead.

"We could arrange a nurse or a SHIELD medic as a chaperone," Fury said.

"Probably a good idea," Phil said. "If Tony's going to stay."

"I'll stay with you until you're well," Tony promised. "And yeah, we'll get someone to stay with us."

"This isn't Edwardian England," Fury said. He threw up his hands. "Fine, fine. I'll organise something."

* * *

Phil recovered quickly with supervision, bed-rest, and keeping his mind active with wedding plans. Nobody in the media world knew about the engagement, so they didn't have to worry about any interruptions from gatecrashers, as long as they kept it all on the down-low. Tony had one of his floors renovated especially for the ceremony and reception, and chose Rhodey as his best man. Despite the courtship, they were both grooms.

Dressed in their best suits, they stood opposite each other, Rhodey behind Tony and Fury behind Phil. Since their own creativities lay in other directions, they went with traditional vows. The kiss at the end was chaste, accompanied nonetheless by catcalls and stomping, as well as far more polite applause.

After a classy reception, with (relatively) clean toasts, nice food, a huge cake, and half an hour of dancing, they all went up to the helipad on the roof. Phil had discouraged Tony from using the suit as their mode of transport, and instead allowed their guests to contribute to the honeymoon, rather than giving presents. They still received some chinaware and silverware, and a few sheet and towel sets, which they would pick up from the tower when they got back.

"By the way, I bought us an apartment near SHIELD base," Tony said as they boarded the `jet. Phil nearly tripped.

"We're not going to live at one of our places?" he asked.

"Think of it as my trousseau."

Phil laughed, and they both waved to their wedding guests as the plane set off for the airport.

First stop, Italy.

* * *

"If I start singing Madonna, let it be known that it's entirely your fault," Tony said, fidgeting as he lay in bed, waiting for Phil to finish brushing his teeth and join him there.

"At least I've made you an honest man first," Phil replied, muffled by the bathroom door. When he emerged, Tony had to bite back a moan. They had showered separately, but at least Tony had got into a dressing gown before leaving the bathroom. Phil was only wearing a towel, some drops of water still beading his chest. He switched off the light, only the lamps on the bedside tables illuminating them. Tony had the blankets pulled up, blocking the arc reactor from sight.

"You look gorgeous," he said, eyeing Phil appreciatively.

"So do you."

He felt even more virginal as Phil rounded the bed, never taking his eyes off Tony, and slowly pulled back his side of the covers.

"Will you?" he asked Tony.

"Uh… yeah, sure. I just…" He swallowed. "I haven't done this since before Afghanistan. So I've never actually done it since before the arc reactor."

"Tony, we've all got our scars," Phil said gently. He slid into bed, and took the edge of the blankets. "Will you let me do this? Please?"

Hesitant, Tony let go, and Phil pulled the covers all the way down to their feet. Then he traced the edges of the reactor, stopping as soon as Tony flinched.

"Bad memories," he said. "That's all."

"I'll be gentle. And I'll never let anyone do that to you again while I'm around to stop it. They'd have to get to you over my dead body."

Tony should have protested the well-meant sentiment, finding it too depressing for a wedding night. Instead he just felt a warm glow inside, definitely not related to the arc reactor. The butterflies in his stomach increased in volume as Phil settled over him, and began to kiss his collarbone.

"Yes," he whispered, stroking Phil's hair as he bent one leg up at the knee. The other soon followed, caging in his husband.

Husband. He was Mr. Coulson-Stark.

Goddamn, Tony felt like the luckiest son-of-a-bitch in the world at that moment.

The kisses moved from one end of his collarbone to the other, and then down the middle of his chest. Phil paused, then kissed the centre of the arc reactor. Tony had never felt anything there; he sure as hell did now. It was like a spark of electricity that caused goosebumps all over his body, even thought that was impossible. It must have been the uncertain look on Phil's face as he looked up at Tony.

"Did that hurt?"

"No," Tony said. "Did it hurt you?"

"It would've only hurt me if it hurt you."

Tony's head fell back onto his pillow and he rolled his hips up. Phil hissed as their erections brushed together. He grabbed Tony's thighs, and held him down.

"Need a condom?" he asked.

"Nah. I got checked out. You?"

"I'm clean."

"Lube's…"

"Just here," Phil said, grabbing the dressing robe he'd placed on the end of the bed. He yanked it close and pulled out a bottle of lubricant. He threw the robe aside, uncapped the bottle, and coated his fingers. "Do you want me to go first?"

Tony nodded, spreading his legs a little wider. Phil's eyes darkened, and he lowered his hand between them.

The first touch had Tony's hips trying to buck. Again, he was held steady, and keened as Phil began to work him open, one finger at a time. When Tony no longer winced at three, he withdrew; about half a minute later they were replaced with something thicker and smoother nudging his entrance. He noticed the capped bottle of lubricant flying away out of the corner of his eye.

And then Phil began to push in.

"Ah! God, Phil!"

"Shh." Phil wiped his fingers on the bed, then cupped Tony's face. "There's no rush; I'm not gonna hurt you. Just… try to keep still. And relaxed."

"Can't… exactly do both."

"Sure you can."

With a single kiss, Phil proved that he could. Several minutes of coaxing and rocking, and finally they were fully joined. Tony breathed out gradually. His breaths faltered when Phil began to pull out and thrust back in. It really was unhurried. He took his time, touching every inch of Tony's body, rarely relinquishing his mouth, and taking everything at a leisurely pace. There were rises and falls, tugs and strokes and caresses, and excited, mingled breaths.

"How is it?" Phil asked. Tony mourned the loss of his lips.

"No one's ever made love to me," he said. "I'd appreciate it if you got back to doing so, and just… don't interrupt again, okay? It's… it's like nothing I've ever felt before. Actually, I could die happy right now. So please keep going."

"Just a simple 'nice' would've done."

"Phil," he whined. Then he gasped when Phil nudged what had to be his prostate. Fuck, yes.

"Lovely," Phil whispered. And he went back to kissing Tony, now hitting that same spot each time. At this rate, no one would even need to touch his—

He cried out as he hit his climax, nearly biting Phil's bottom lip. At Phil's last thrust, Tony shuddered as his insides were coated with his husband's release. No matter how laid-back the rest of the sex had been, this was beyond intense. It was beyond anything else he'd ever felt.

It was love, after all.

* * *

The Coulson-Starks lay entangled afterwards. Phil had cleaned up Tony's release (with his tongue, sparking a lot of now-appropriate thoughts), and they were nestled close together, holding hands and gazing at each other. The light was low, too low to make the rings sparkle. But their eyes were sparkling enough, and their skin glowed. And instead of looking sickly, Phil looked ethereal in the light of the arc reactor.

"I feel so lucky," he said.

"Same here," Tony said. Phil squeezed his hands. "I never thought this would happen to me. Sometimes it seems like a dream."

"It isn't," Phil said. "I promise. This is one hundred percent real."

"I know. There's no way my feelings could be this strong in the dream world."

"Good." Phil kissed him. "You can top next time."

"Really? I don't have to. I… I don't mind being taken care of," Tony confessed. Phil looked surprised, then understanding.

"We'll see," he said. "Let me know when you want to change."

"If."

He nodded. "If."

When they finally went to sleep, Tony was the little spoon, the blue light emanating from his chest like a beacon of hope and…

And this relationship was making him wax poetic.

(But it was totally worth it.)

THE END

* * *

**Good Lord. I didn't know when to stop. This, uh, might or might not have gotten a bit out of hand. Really. I planned for it to be 500-1000 words, 2000 at most. You got nearly four times that. Aren't I just generous?**

**(Aren't OOC Tony and Phil just made for fluff?)**

**Anyway, this was never supposed to be entirely serious. Crack, I guess you could say. Phil was just supposed to court Tony for a bit; it turned into this whole, almost ritualistic kind of old-fashioned courtship. Maybe not terribly old-fashioned, but close enough, especially by today's standards, even more so by Tony's standards.**

**Was it sweet enough for you? Anyway, hope the OP likes it. One of the earliest prompts on the Kink Meme.**

**On a sadder note, I almost changed it so that the whole thing was a dream, and that Phil really was dead the whole time, leaving Tony heartbroken when he woke up. But I'm not that cruel. And it wouldn't fit with the tone of the original prompt. Maybe I'll save that for another story.**

**Please review!**


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